Updated: Oct 22, 2020
I moderate the Lokean Welcoming Committee on tumblr, and a lot of the time I see Lokeans concerned that a lay period in their practice, or a moment of weakness where they do not hear from Loki, means that they have done something wrong. That their trickster no longer wants them. I wrote this poem, more or less at Loki's request, for them. After all, a god who's had their mouth sewn shut understands that sometimes it's in your best interests to lie low and heal.
Liar, low key, lain in wait; a coiled snake or mother hen awaiting further action. A hand outstretched, a waiting ear or ready blade to cut down threat and barrier both, until they meet again.
The Silvertongue knows well the words we cannot speak or will not hear and knows, too, the need to hesitate. To pick your battles, and choose your words, and fall back on the friends you know are always there. The words, sometimes, do not flow quick and sometimes the river fails to flow at all but when they will, their arms are wide, open, no strings attached. They know, more than most, how worries collect behind bound lips and how sometimes, the ones you want to free the most are the ones you swallow instead.
Not just a fair-weather friend, the weary trickster sits and entertains themself until the day you gather your thoughts, and come knocking at their door to ask for help. A gentle tsk will greet you, a kind of “what time of life do you call this?” But then the God of Stories will sit you down, and keep you close and listen to yours as though it is the most important thing they’ll ever hear. To them, it is and you know, deep in your bones, that they’ll listen to every word.
And when it’s done they’ll offer blade or balm, whatever you need to reach their easy peace and when you do, their door is always open. When Loki knows you once, they always will. And though the calm comes before the storm. They know you will meet again.